


A Purely Human Problem

by Woljf



Series: A Purely Human Problem [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor has a vagina, First Time, Masturbation, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Translation from Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 09:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15554301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woljf/pseuds/Woljf
Summary: Connor needs a maintenance, Kamski offers a helping hand.





	A Purely Human Problem

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Сугубо человеческая проблема (часть 1)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/402975) by Элайджа Бейли. 



> written by kohvoo aka Элайджа Бейли  
> translated by woljf aka Вольк

“Thank you for agreeing to help me.”  
“You are welcome.”

Elijah Kamski smiles. He is intrigued: Connor knows this from his slightly dilated pupils, and his heart rate is a little higher than normal for a man of thirty six.

His face is highly asymmetrical. Is it handsome? Connor hasn’t yet developed the ability to judge personal appearance, but tabloids call Elijah Kamski “one of the most eligible bachelors in America”. Objectively he is young and healthy, weighs within normal range, and does not suffer any illnesses, either physical or mental, that would show without a thorough analysis.

In combination these factors must make him handsome.

“Come in,” Elijah says, turns around and goes back into the house.

He is wearing a long black robe, a white t-shirt, grey pants and soft house shoes. Connor runs a quick analysis: cashmere, cotton, leather. All labels which could identify the manufacturer have been carefully cut off.

There is an RT600 standing in the large hall. Her LED is steady blue. Her smile is friendly, but she doesn’t shake Connor’s hand.

“This way,” Elijah calls.

The villa is impeccably clean — not sterile, of course, as no human dwelling can be sterile, but clean in comparison to the police station or Hank’s house. Connor identifies a slight smell of an air freshener with artificial menthol, as well as eight points providing the room with cooled ionized air.

Together with Elijah they enter an elevator and go down to the basement.

“I forbid Chloe to touch other androids,” says Elijah.  
“Isn’t she able to decide for herself?” asks Connor. Deviants can make their own choices. Deviants have rights and are free citizens of Detroit.  
“Oh, no. The model is too old. However, ST200s can,” Elijah smiles again, “But I still don’t recommend them to exchange data with strangers. Digital protection, you know.”

Connor nods understandingly. Elijah himself wrote several protocols for digital protection and had them in free access on Cyberlife’s cloud server. He has no more right to force any data into the androids’ memory. People no longer take part in their assembling and debugging.

The basement is very spacious, hidden in dim light, but with a snap of his finger Elijah switches the lights on, changing the brightness to five hundred lux. The room looks more like a human hospital: there are lots of different devices and it’s mostly white. White color is soothing.

Connor distinguishes particles of sanitizer. There are fourteen points for cooling and ionizing the air.

“For obvious reasons I don’t have a gynecological chair,” Elijah informs him and pulls out a table from a wall niche. He sets the table under the lamps and locks the wheels so they don’t move. “Clothes off.”

Connor obliges. He carefully unbuttons his shirt, takes it off, folds, and stops in confusion.

“Give me that,” Elijah takes the shirt, then the folded pants. He throws them on another table.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of Connor all the time he undresses. Objective physiological reactions show that he rather likes the scene than not.

“Skin off,” he says, “Sit down on the table, bend your knees, like that. Lean back on your hands.

Connor obliges again. The table is cold. His sensors record the temperature — twenty four degrees Celsius, — but it’s rising fast, getting in accordance with the standard thirty six point six of any android body.

Elijah stops at his pulled apart legs and looks thoughtfully.

“Open the panel. Remind me, why this set exactly?"  
"My body isn't meant for such augmentations," Connor explains. Deep in thought, Elijah runs his fingers through cables and tubes, as if trying to locate something, and Connor clenches his fingers a little. All his biocomponents are enabled with sensor so that he can replace them on his own in case of emergency. These feelings aren't exactly unpleasant, but Connor would prefer if they stopped. He switches his attention an continues, "After the consultation I've chosen the only one compatible to me at the moment."

Elijah gives him a glance, then looks down again.

"Not bad," he says. His fingers move down, slide against the orifice, then inside. Connor feels him touching the inner surface, "Neat connection of Thirium tubes, although the implementation could be better. But I'm no specialist."  
"This is a prototype of biocomponent #0355r-k," Connor explains, "Later my body will be reassembled so that another set can be installed."  
"Why?"  
"As far as I understand, this body is meant for a different set of genitals."

To Connor's surprise, Elijah laughs, but it sounds dry, almost irritated.

"Your lieutenant likes dicks?"  
"Hank is bisexual."  
"His sexuality doesn't really matter," Elijah says and pulls his fingers out, "Androids don't have genders, and you won't get one just because somebody fitted a vagina into you, and people can like dicks while not liking sex with men. Okay. I promised to connect you. If you don't mind I'll also upload some basic protocols, like requirement to replenish thirium supply after every sexual intercourse.  
"Thank you," Connor says sincerely.  
Elijah just brushes it off and goes to another table.  
"You're welcome. Lie down."

Connor lies down on the cold surface of the table. Usually the synthetic skin serves as a buffer between his sensors and surfaces, but right now there’s no skin, and Connor shudders before quickly decreasing his sensitivity. The table is warming up fast.

Elijah returns and puts a laptop on Connor’s stomach, then reels out the cable.

“Come on,” he says, and Connor quickly turns the back of head on him. The cable connects with a slight click.

Elijah sits dons on the edge of the table and takes the laptop putting it on his lap. Despite the decreased sensitivity Connor can feel the hem of the cashmere robe sliding against the bare plastic of his thigh.

“This source code sucks ass,” Elijah comments, “I’ve overestimated them, haven’t I? The hardware is fine, but the programming is like… But I can fix it. We will temporarily rearrange your sensor rate, for the occasion. I’ll show you where.

He looms a bit over Connor.

“Skin back on. Sure you are not gonna fuck like that?”

Connor has no idea how exactly he is going to fuck. As Elijah looks at his skin his heart rate becomes a little faster, but it quickly comes back to normal. Connor makes a mental note.

“Lips, tongue, insides of the cheeks,” Elijah stops and looks at his face deep in thought, then returns to the laptop. “Let’s say, plus twenty percent. Ears — plus ten. Nipples — plus twenty five. Hands and feet — plus ten. Genitals — plus fifty, I’ll customize right now. All other sensors remain on default.

While Elijah is busy coding, Connor tentatively rearranges the sensor rates. Out of curiosity he raises his hand to touch his lips. He quivers a little: he can distinctly feel the impulse run through his body and reverberate in his processor, but these feelings are mostly unpleasant rather than otherwise.

Elijah quietly swears.

“Could you stop moving around?” he grumbles, “Stop messing with the settings before I save.”

Connor freezes. Elijah finishes a code line and presses “enter”. The new program integrates with his code and overrides his own settings. Such intrusion is always somewhat unwelcome, but Connor agreed to this, so there’s no point in complaining.

However the code is good, it’s familiar and correct. The integration gives him some discomfort, but just a few seconds later the new code becomes indistinguishable from the original one.

Elijah watches him closely.

“So?” he asks.  
“Testing required,” Connor replies.  
“Yeah.”

Elijah takes his hand and presses Connor’s fingers to the back his neck. At first Connor doesn’t understand what’s going on, but the touch-connect in his fingertips reacts before he can process the visual signal. Suddenly skin slips off his fingers. He tries to withdraw his hand, but Elijah holds it tight.

“Easy,” he says, “It’s okay.”  
“What is it?”  
“An experimental neuromodule.”  
It doesn’t ring a bell to Connor. He makes a surprised face so Elijah explains:  
“An equivalent of a touch plate for android-to-android data exchange. This is a very raw prototype, but no harm in trying.”  
“You had a plate installed into your head?”

He is really surprised, this is no imitation. Statistics show that in majority people react negatively to any augmentations to their bodies. Even if ID-chips are accepted, meddling with brain functions is still not.

“You’re so cute when you’re confused,” Elijah says with a smile.

He moves the laptop to the edge of the table, jumps down and starts undressing. First he takes off the robe and throws it on the floor. It’s followed by the t-shirt, then by his pants. He doesn’t have underwear.

“Follow my sensations,” Elijah says climbing back on the table. He throws his leg over Connor’s thighs and sits on his lap. “The neuromodule will transfer the information to you. Your task is to convert it into code and embed it into the subprogram I’ve installed. This will make your sensors properly identify any external stimuli.”

He leans forward and Connor put his fingers on his neck. This time they connect softer: the system recognizes the neuromodule and is ready for connection.  
“Besides the subprogram I’ve also uploaded you with two slightly modified protocols for HR400 and WR400. Firstly, temperature rises causing the thirium viscosity to increase, toxic compounds are cleared out so that the thirium can serve as lubrication. The protocols automatically tell the biocomponents when to start the lubrication process, but you can switch it on yourself. Secondly, behavior. Sort through the scenarios and pick whatever is to your partner’s liking.”  
“Okay,” Connor says.

Elijah leans further forward and their lips touch. For a test Connor looks through several scenarios and picks one that seems most fitting. He pulls Elijah in by his neck and initiates a kiss.

“You can change and recombine scenarios,” Elijah says pulling away a bit.  
He takes Connor’s free hand and puts it on his neck. Connor runs his hand down his neck, traces his collarbones and stops at the nipples. Tactile sensors signal: the skin is smooth and clear.  
“Lagging?” Elijah asks.  
“Yes,” Connor answers.

At this moment the subprogram finishes with data processing and sends a coded feedback to the processor. Connor looks at Elijah dumbfounded. Elijah smiles wryly. His pupils are dilated.

All android sensors are designed for perception of external stimuli. They read pressure, temperature, they can identify the sensations as painful, but they don’t convey them uncomfortable as it would interfere with proper functioning. But now Connor feels as if some kind of barrier has been lifted, and each sensor in his body lies naked and overdriven.

Now he can catalog the incoming stimuli mentally marking them as “pleasant”. He feels pleasure, even if for now it’s just someone else’s feeling in digital form.

Connor pulls Elijah’s head back in to continue the kiss, licks his lips, catches them with his teeth, pushes his tongue inside. A short laugh from Elijah is interrupted with a deep moan that makes his throat vibrate. A background application notes faster heart rate. 

He manages to start a parallel scenario. He traces Elijah’s nipple with his thumb and rubs it, pushing it into his chest. Elijah moans into his mouth again and backs off, and when Connor tries to reach him he strongly pushes his chest putting Connor back in place.

“Comment,” he requests. Connor sits silent for a few seconds. He doesn’t know how to describe his feelings.  
“It’s pleasant,” he manages finally.  
“Are you recording?”  
“Yes.”  
“Your body pattern will be similar to mine,” Elijah straightens himself, leaning back on Connor’s thighs, and starts running his hand along his body, stroking and petting. He is very thorough, his movements are steady and calm. “Besides the genitals. Unfortunately I’m not fitted with a vagina, but that’s no big deal.”  
“A clitoris has twice as many nerve endings as the glans of a penis,” Connor says for no reason. Elijah grins.  
“Connor, you don’t have a clitoris. All you’ve got is a masturbator with sensors, but if needed we can make it even forty times as sensible as the most sensible clitoris. Although your processor wasn’t designed for a load like that. La petite mort wouldn’t be so petite for you.

Connor moves a little under him. He feels as if hands were touching his body. The phantom touches mess with his visual system: it doesn’t register any touches, but the information coded by the subprogram still reaches his processor.

“About this time is when the lubrication process should start,” Elijah says. His is a little shaky. “Switch it, let’s say, to ten percent.”

He reaches down and grabs his cock, stretching his lips in a smile. A new wave of sensations runs through Connor like an electrical shock: he arches his back, trying to pull Elijah closer, but Elijah stubbornly pushes him back, not letting him take his shoulder blades off the table. The wish to run a hand over his skin is so strong that Connor inadvertently clenches his teeth: the commands come against each other, overlapping, causing something that could be defined as discomfort, but this discomfort is washed away with pleasure. These antipodal feelings conflict, and Connor tries to solve it by breaking free from the grasp.

“Easy,” Elijah mutters, “It’s okay.”  
“This…” He can’t manage his voice right away. “Is it always going to be like this?”  
“More or less,” Elijah breathes out. He moves his fist along his dick with an unsteady rhythm, but little by little it becomes smoother. Connor avidly records every movement. “For the future, people may not like your stone face. Initiate emotion imitation. No,” he adds quickly, “Not right now, just… in future and with somebody else.

The sensors in his fingertips go out of control. Connor feels miserable. He gives up and asks.  
“Can I?”  
“Can you what?” Elijah echoes, and instead of an answer Connor runs his hand over Elijah stomach and down.

Elijah understand and takes his hand away which is then replaced by Connor’s fingers. He copies the recorded movements precisely, making the rhythm broken at first, the even and systematic. Elijah doubles up and presses his face into Connor’s neck. His barely functioning sensors registrate his hot uneven breath and slight air vibration from deep moans.

“Is it your first time doing this?” Elijah asks, his voice hoarse.  
“Yes.”  
“What about your lieutenant?” 

Connor doesn’t want to talk about Hank, but he can’t find a single reason not to. That’s why he answers in full honesty.

“I’ve been planning to offer him to have a sexual relationship after the augmentation is installed.”  
“Oh my God,” Elijah’s shoulders are shaking. He starts laughing. Connor is somewhat confused. “Oh my God, this is gonna be a disaster. No, no, don’t stop.”

He moves up a little, shifting his weight to Connor’s stomach, then leans for a kiss. So many sensations at once make it difficult to switch on a parallel scenario. Programs overlap again, and again Connor faces an inner conflict as he tries and fails to prioritize.

Elijah bites his lips and backs off.

“That’s fixable,” he says exhaling. “Don’t you worry. Multitasking deficiency is a purely human problem.”

Connor looks him in the face and comes to a conclusion that he enjoys the scene. He decides that Elijah Kamski is subjectively handsome, despite the hectic flush on his cheeks and his reddened lips.

Elijah exhales, softly.

“Take your hand off my neck,” he asks. Connor thinks how disconnecting will stop the data transfer, and thus the pleasure, and doesn’t move. “Connor!” Elijah repeats. His emotional background slightly changes. “I said, take off your hand.”

Connor doesn’t. Elijah tries to wriggle out, but Connor stops him with his bent leg. The pleasure becomes so intense that it causes a malfunction in synthetic skin distribution: it slides of his fingers and almost up to the elbows, regenerates, ripples.

A shiver runs through Elijah’s body. He moans lowly and spills over Connor’s stomach.

The information arrives with a slight delay, but when it does, it hits Connor like a wave. Several systems including visual module report a critical error and go into immediate reboot, they are followed by his processor switching to safe mode.

The systems manage to start normal operation only in two hundred twenty three seconds.

Connor lies still waiting for the scanning to be finished. Having found no malfunctions he opens his eyes and restores his human body appearance.

Elijah is sitting on the edge of the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Firstly,” he says half-turned, “A hard reboot is not the best way to finish a romantic evening, which means genital sensitivity should be decreased. Secondly, the neuromodule provides feedback. Being connected to an android that goes into hard reboot is very, very unpleasant.”  
“I’m sorry,” Connor replies. His voice changes from almost mechanical I’m to normal sorry.  
“Everything saved?”

Connor feels inclined to say no, as it would suggest a necessity in second test.

“Yes,” he says.  
“I’ll upload another protocol,” Elijah takes his laptop. “Consent. Distinct, verbal. If I tell you to take your hand off, you take your hand off. Understood?”  
“Understood.”  
“Great.”  
“Why didn’t you upload it at once?”

Elijah smiles, but the smile quickly turns into a grimace of pain. Seeing him in pain is unpleasant, but Connor doesn’t know what to do in such a situation.

“I wanted to know what would you do without it.”

Connor sits up.

“Are you dissatisfied?”  
“I am satisfied.” Elijah runs his fingers over the keyboard, and Connor feels something strange. He wants these fingers to touch him. “You are disobedient and stubborn. But, at the end of the day, that’s how I created you.”

Connor sits still while Elijah types. The last protocol flows into his system softly, almost inconspicuously, enlacing the existing code. It feels like a gentle touch.

“Elijah,” Connor says.  
“Yes?”  
“Have you finished the testing?”  
“Yes.” Elijah shuts the laptop and turns to Connor to unplug the neck cable. “But I’ve enjoyed how the neuromodule interacts with your model. I’ve tested it on RT600 and ST200, but so far you’ve shown the most curious results.”

Connor contemplates this.

“Do you plan on launching its mass production?”  
“Some day,” Elijah shrugs his shoulders. Suddenly he grabs Connor by his neck and pulls him closer, but when Connor reaches his hand for a contact he quickly catches his wrist. “No, no,” he says. “Now without me.”

The kiss feels subjectively pleasant. There is no connection between them, but Connor feels as if there was.

“Everything functions,” he says as Elijah pulls back. “Thank you.”  
“If you ever feel like helping me with neuromodule my doors are always open.”

Connor nods.


End file.
